


The Trouble With Love and Cauldrons

by RoonilWazlibMalfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fanart, Getting Together, Good Percy Weasley, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mystery, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Owls, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Snape Bang 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:55:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29233401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoonilWazlibMalfoy/pseuds/RoonilWazlibMalfoy
Summary: It all began because of a problem with cauldron bottom thickness. It continued because a pair of owls fell in love. It continued because of shady individuals and nagging mothers, because of irrational bosses and annoying students. It continued because two unlikeable men found that they quite liked one another.
Relationships: Severus Snape/Percy Weasley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Snape Bang 2021 and was based on an idea that I've had for a while. 2020 was quite a year and there is little about this story that turned out exactly the way that I hope that it would, but I'm rather pleased with how it turned out anyway. More than anything, I am grateful to my wonderful amazing artist, snapeislife (Tumblr), who created the first piece of Snape/Percy art that I've ever seen and I love it so so much. She inspired me to finish writing through the turmoil with her gorgeous art. This rare pair deserves all the love in the world.
> 
> Thanks also to Tails for inspiring the first scene and for all of the snapedom on Tumblr for being so lovely and encouraging.

"Get out!" Severus roared at the classroom full of students over the hiss of acidic liquid spilling on the floor. Vanishing the acrid fumes as a group of wide-eyed children frantically scurried out the door, he muttered, "A waste of perfectly good ingredients," and began examining the mangled iron cauldron that the doomed potion had seeped through. 

This had been the 7th melted cauldron already this year and it was only October. Even worse, only three of those had been Longbottom's fault so he knew there was a real problem. 

Waving his wand to get rid of the mess, he sat down heavily at his desk.  _ This is getting ridiculous, _ he thought. Selecting a quill and a piece of fine letterhead parchment emblazoned with the heading "Severus Snape, Potions Master," he began to write a strongly worded letter to the Ministry. He did not know how they expected him to train their idiot children in the fine art of potion-making if they couldn't even provide them with adequate equipment. 

_ To Whom It May Concern: _

_ I, Severus Snape, have been teaching Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for over a decade. Never before, in all of my time teaching, have I seen such disgraceful equipment provided to the bright young minds of wizarding Britain.  _

_ In the past 2½ weeks, no less than seven cauldrons have melted in my classroom, wasting ingredients, damaging property, and putting my students at risk. This is completely unacceptable and I demand that something be done about this travesty. _

_ If the cauldrons continue to be so ill-suited to novice potion-making, I shall be forced to resign. No one can teach the fine art of brewing under such conditions. _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Severus Snape _

_ Potions Master  _

_ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _

Immediately after angrily scratching out his signature, breaking the tip of his quill in the process, he marched to the owlery to send it off, grateful that most students were in class at the moment so he didn't need to worry about running into any of them. Surely, if he had seen any, they'd have lost points for their houses given his mood.

Whistling softly, he called his screech owl, Hortense, to him. She fluttered down to him without hesitation, whinnying softly as he stroked her grey feathers. Smaller than the majority of the other birds nesting there, she would not have been pinned by most as an owl belonging to the snarky potions master, but he loved her. He had bought her himself when she was barely more than a hatchling. She was loyal and affectionate – something Severus severely lacked in his life – and she was completely reliable. 

Giving her a small treat, he attached the letter to her leg and asked her to deliver it to the Ministry. She hopped to his shoulder and nuzzled his jaw affectionately, before taking off into the air and beginning her long journey to London.

Severus has no idea that this simple letter, sent in anger, would change his life forever, but if he had known, if he'd had the smallest inkling of the trouble it would cause, he wouldn't have changed a thing. 

◇■◇■◇■◇

Two days later, when the owl post arrived during breakfast, Severus was gratified to see Hortense soaring through the Great Hall bearing correspondence with an official Ministry seal. Taking the letter and unfolding it, he scratched her soft head as he read. 

_ Professor Snape, _

_ Thank you for your letter regarding cauldron bottom thickness. I assure you that this problem is a top priority for us here in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. We are aware that the cauldrons that have been imported of late have been of shoddy quality and we are doing all that we can to correct this problem right away. _

_ The problems that it poses for esteemed educators such as yourself has not gone unnoticed. A member of the Department will visit you at 6pm sharp this evening to further discuss this issue and any suggestions or possible remedies that you might have.  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Percy Weasley _

_ Department of International Magical Cooperation _

So that's what Percy Weasley is doing now, Severus thought. Severus knew that he had graduated last spring, of course, and he'd found himself surprisingly curious about him. Percy was, as far as he was concerned, the best Weasley of the bunch. He'd been ambitious, studious, and immensely talented, so much so that Severus had frequently wondered how he'd have fared in Slytherin. It was a shame, he thought, that the blasted sorting hat seemed to cry Gryffindor as soon as it was placed on a ginger head, regardless of the mind beneath the hair.

Most students irritated Severus, to put it simply. He knew, of course, that it wasn't entirely their fault. They were children and children could be loud and cruel, irresponsible and wild; it was something that most of them grew out of eventually and the only real remedy for it was time. But that did not make them any less annoying to him. 

Occasionally, though, there was a student who managed to endear themselves to him by being respectful and creative and interested in knowledge. Rarely did those students come from Gryffindor, but Percy Weasley, like Lily Evans back in his day, had been an exception. 

In all actuality, Severus probably should never have been a teacher at all. He'd have made a fine master, taking on hand selected apprentices and allowing them to begin building their future careers. But teaching children who walked into the classroom knowing nothing and, for the most part, wanting to remain that way, was not the best thing for him or for the students. His options after the war had been extremely limited and he hadn't much fight left in him at the time, so he had followed Dumbledore and he'd ended up here, despising his job, hating his life, and holding fast to the bright spots that were those students that he would have hand-selected had he been in a position to do so. 

For that reason, he was pleased to see that Percy had joined the Ministry and that he was doing important work. Sure, others might not consider cauldron regulations to be something of great import, but Severus knew, as any decent potion maker would, that cauldron thickness could be the difference between brewing a potion to bring someone back from the brink of death and melting your own feet off. He was pleased to know that someone who showed promise and competence in spite of his youth, would be handling this issue. 

Severus Snape knew, from first hand experience, that age did not equal proficiency. He was the youngest Potions Master that had ever taught at Hogwarts and, while he may despise his job, his students did exceedingly well for the most part. Meanwhile, Dumbledore was ancient, wise and decrepit, and he was over here hiring people like Gilderoy Lockhart and an actual cowardly werewolf, expecting them to prepare children to defend themselves from magical attacks, even while knowing that a war was coming.

So, Severus was well accepting of former students who'd done well for themselves and he found himself looking forward to their meeting that evening. He gave Hortense a bit of bacon and watched fondly as she flew out of the Great Hall.

For the rest of the day, Severus had a slight spring in his step. Not that anyone would have noticed, really. A happy Severus looked remarkably similar to a miserable Severus with the exception of being fractionally less likely to take points and hand out detentions. He enjoyed the clack of his black boots against stone and the smell of potions being brewed more than usual, but yet was no real outward sign of that. He did shock Adrian Pucey by handing out two points to Slytherin for correct answers, something he generally avoided doing as he didn't see any need to reward anyone for doing the bare minimum of what they should be naturally doing, but he was feeling rather generous. 

Word spread about his strange behavior, though, which increased his good mood even more. The students were avoiding him, not sure what to make of the idea that he had given out points, even if it had been points to his own House. He wondered if perhaps he should act out of character more frequently if it served to keep annoying children on their guard and away from him. He was certain, though, that he would abandon the notion before doing anything with it. Good moods were a rarity for Severus Snape and he would, no doubt, quickly fall back into old habits once this issue with the cauldrons was corrected, once young Weasley had taken care of things and returned to his new Ministry job without another thought of his old Potions teacher.

◇■◇■◇■◇

Needless to say, by the time Percy Weasley arrived that evening, Severus was in such a state to be positively cordial to him. At 6 o'clock on the dot, a knock sounded on his office door. He stood, quickly straightening his robes and pushing back his greasy hair, and opened the door.

"Good evening, Mr. Weasley," he greeted him. "You're looking well." 

He wasn't lying about that either. Percy Weasley was looking well, indeed. It seemed that employment with the Ministry agreed with him. While he'd been a student, his clothes had always had the slightly shabby look of someone who was wearing second-hand clothing but was trying to conceal it, a situation Severus could well relate to. Now his robes were neat and well-kept, the colour of dark chocolate. His hair was still a mass of unruly ginger curls and his blue eyes were bright and discerning, giving him a friendly but professional look.

"Hello, Professor Snape," he replied. "It's wonderful to see you again." He smiled and held his hand out. His face lit up when he smiled.

Shaking his hand, Severus ushered him inside and the two got down to business. Severus found himself even more impressed by Percy after they began talking. He had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the current laws and of the need for greater regulation in this area.

"I assure you, Sir," he said, "I am writing tirelessly on this problem. And I've received some criticism for that, as if it's unimportant!" He seemed baffled by the very idea. "Only people who have no practical knowledge at all could think that. Honestly!"

Smirking at Percy's obvious offense, Snape replied, "Believe me, I understand. Few people understand the subtle art of brewing, but know that you are dying solid work and it is of great importance to those of us who do understand." Percy smiled back at him in gratitude. 

Snape found himself rather wanting to see more smiles like that one on that freckled face. He ran a long-fingered hand through his black hair in an attempt to clear his head.  _ Honestly, Severus,  _ he thought,  _ there's no need to begin hero-worshipping the boy just because he shares your passion for potions.  _

"Thank you, Sir. It's quite nice to know that I'm doing something meaningful. Of course, I knew that already. I remember my own brothers melting a number of cauldrons," he chuckled nervously as Snape shuddered. The Weasley twins were certainly menaces in their own right. He often wondered if they didn't do it on purpose and entertained a brief moment of glee at the thought of their older brother preventing some of their more disastrous attempts at causing chaos.

"At any rate," Percy said, "I should probably get going. I just wanted to reassure you that your concerns have not gone unnoticed and I hope to see them resolved in the very near future." He stood to leave then and Severus followed him. 

Upon opening the door, they found a group of Gryffindor 5th years harassing a lone Slytherin student, making her robes creep up her legs as she tried her best to hold them down. Severus found his previous good mood vanish completely. 

"50 points from Gryffindor!" he bellowed. "And I'll see the three of you in detention tomorrow evening!" His heart rate had quickened at seeing such abuse. It honestly made him sick that students thought they could get away with such disgusting attacks. He knew first hand the kind of pain that could be caused if they hadn't been interrupted. 

Suddenly Severus was reminded of Percy Weasley, still standing behind him. He turned to see that his face had gone pale, causing his freckles to stand out in sharp relief on his pale face.

"Goodness gracious," he said, raising a shaky hand to his mouth. "What idiotic buffoons! I'm so glad that I didn't behave that way as a student here."

The corners of Severus' mouth lifted in an almost smile then. Percy was right. He certainly had not behaved in such a manner. In fact, he'd been one of the best Gryffindor prefects that Severus could remember them ever having, working actively to prevent students – even those from his own House – from doing such things. 

"I, too, am grateful for that, Mr. Weasley. I hate to think what sort of mischief your capable hands could have caused if you'd turned your ambitions in such a direction." Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, Severus wondered what the bloody fuck he was doing. Severus Snape did not flirt and he certainly didn't flirt with former students!

Percy's cheeks went pink and his blue eyes sparkled. "Yes, well. Thank you for saying so, Professor. I really must be off now. It was so good to see you, Sir!" 

Was it Severus' imagination, or did those blue eyes linger on him a bit longer than necessary? Turning back into his office, he closed the door. Certainly not, he thought. No one like Percy would have an interest in someone so moody and ugly as him. He had certainly rushed away quickly enough, probably mortified, horrified even, at the careless slip that Severus had just made.

He could have hexed himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

Percy could have hexed himself. 

Snape had been so incredibly kind to him, kinder than he'd really thought the man capable of. And then, like an idiot, he had rushed off without a proper goodbye. It was utterly indecorous of him, at best.

He had always had a bit of a crush on Severus Snape. Not that he'd have ever admitted that to anyone. He'd never have heard the end of it if his brothers or his fellow Gryffindors had heard such a thing, and he'd always borne quite enough of their teasing without any of that nonsense. 

Still, there was something terribly intriguing about the man. He was so stoic most of the time, but with an obvious river of passion flowing beneath the surface. He wasn't attractive – not in the way that Oliver or Penelope were, anyway – but there was just something very striking about his pale skin and long dark hair, his shiny black eyes that seemed to see everything.

Percy had always found him to be quite fair, as well, despite what his classmates seemed to think. He admired his commitment to following the rules and the way that he didn't favor his own reckless housemates like Dumbledore always seemed to do. His punishments had never been dangerous, like some other professors seemed to be overly fond of, and his love of potions was apparent.

In fact, Percy likely would have no interest in potions whatsoever if not for Snape's teaching. 

He had been incredibly chuffed when he'd gotten Snape's letter, if he was being honest. It served to reinforce the idea that his work on cauldron legislation was important and worthwhile, despite all the flack he'd received for working on it. The fact that this encouragement had come from Severus Snape was just an added bonus. 

His little screech owl, Hermes, had seemed to share his enjoyment, although for a rather different reason. The owl that had delivered that letter had clearly piqued Hermes' interest. He thought they made a rather smart couple and he'd idly entertained a boyish fantasy of him and Snape looking just as striking together. 

Visiting Hogwarts and meeting with Snape had really been quite unnecessary and he knew it. That's why he'd waited to go after business hours. He was certain that Mr. Crouch would have said that a letter would be enough of a response, ensuring to their constituents that they were, in fact, addressing the problem. He just couldn't resist the opportunity to speak to Snape on equal footing, to show him that he was a grown and capable wizard now. He knew that it was just a crush and would likely come to nothing, but he had few real pleasures in life and privately fantasizing about his old professor was one of them. 

◇■◇■◇■◇

When he arrived home, his mother was waiting at the door for him. 

"Percy!" she scolded. "You didn't tell me you'd be late! Dinner is all dried out, we had no idea where you were. This isn't like you!"

"Sorry, mum," he said, not feeling especially sorry. "I had an errand to run after work."

"Oh, Percy," she said, reaching up to ruffle his hair in a way that she should have known he hated. "You're so grown up." He just smiled back at her, knowing that she cared but wishing that she could back off just a bit. He had never caused problems for them and had always gone above and beyond in trying to make them proud. 

Of course, he had his own ambitions as well, but that had only been half the reason. He saw how she worried about her oldest sons, out of the country doing dangerous jobs, and her twins, always causing mischief. He knew that she doted on Ron and Ginny, being the babies of the family. He had always just been there, good, solid Percy. She had no reason to worry about him, even if he was late coming home one time in his entire life. He'd made sure of it.

"Well, let's eat then," she said, taking his cloak and beckoning him to the table. "I do hope it's not dried out, dear. I didn't know you were going to be late." 

If he had been any other Weasley child, he'd have rolled his eyes at that. Of course, she'd continue to harp on his lateness. He wondered what she'd do with herself if she had no one to nag.

"Sorry, mum," he said again, giving her a contrite look before tucking in to his stew. He honestly didn't want her to worry. He had never wanted that. But Merlin, she could be irritating. 

Finally, she seemed satisfied with his apology and began asking about his day. As he had no interest in disclosing where he'd gone that evening, though he knew he'd done nothing wrong, he told her all about his day in the office. He spared no detail about the walls he was running into with cauldron legislation and he watched as her eyes seemed to glaze over. He knew that what he was doing was less interesting than de-gnoming a garden to most people, but he really did find it fascinating.

His father, on the other hand, seemed to be following his every word with a mixture of pride and understanding. He supposed that if anyone could understand being interested in things that others found dull, it was his father, obsessed as he was with muggle gadgets. 

"Fascinating!" Arthur exclaimed after he'd finished telling them about the argument he'd had with a French cauldron manufacturer. "It's incredible the lengths that some people will go to to get away with selling a shoddy product. Good you were there to give them the what for. What did Barty think of it all?" he asked.

Shifting uncomfortably, Percy responded, "Well, I think Mr. Crouch was quite impressed with me, as I was able to cite the exact ordinances from memory. He still seems to think my name is Weatherby, though, and I'm not certain he'll ever get it right." It was a great source of irritation to him that his boss couldn't be bothered to learn his name.

"Oh, I'm sure he'll get it sooner or later, dear," his mother said, patting his hand and seeming grateful to finally understand part of their conversation. "You're too good at your job to be overlooked for much longer."

Percy smiled genuinely at her then. Irritating as she could be, he truly did love his mother. It was nice to feel like someone was really on his side.

◇■◇■◇■◇

After dinner, he decided to sit down and read something totally unrelated to work. He'd been hammering away at the cauldron problem for weeks now and he needed something else to focus on. He picked up a novel that had been languishing on his bedside table for months, grateful for the peaceful quiet of their house now that all of his siblings were away.

Immersing himself in the lives of Gunther and Leopold, a pair of thestral herders who were slowly falling in love, may not be a great use of his time, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. Reading trashy romance novels was a guilty pleasure of his, another thing that he'd managed to hide from his brothers. He'd found that presenting himself as boring and without interests beyond following the rules and doing homework was a beneficial way to keep people from discovering his more embarrassing tendencies. 

He wondered if anyone would ever be as interested in him as Gunther was in Leopold.

In recent nights, when Percy had dreamed, he had been trapped in damp dark rooms filled with leaking cauldrons and toxic potions fumes. His dreaming world had consisted of him frantically chopping flobberworms while dancing around, trying to keep the flow of potions from touching his bare feet. As he slept that night, however, his dreams were focused on black eyes and black hair and sweeping black robes. His dreams were focused on the hard lines of a man's body and smooth expanses of pale skin. 

Percy woke up smiling.

◇■◇■◇■◇

Getting to work in the Department for International Magical Cooperation had been a dream job for Percy. It certainly wasn't where he wanted to end his career, but it was a very prestigious jumping off point and he was pleased to have been hired. Sure, his boss didn't quite know his name yet despite the fact that he had been employed there for nearly 4 months, but he supposed that everyone had to get their start somewhere. 

He didn't really hold it against Mr. Crouch either. With the Tri-Wizard Tournament being planned, the poor man didn't have time to think about much else. Percy was actually quite glad that he'd been hired when he had; he was practically running the department himself while Mr. Crouch dealt with the Tournament, so he was certain that his hard work would really be noticed in the very near future. 

"Weatherby," the man greeted him as he stepped off the lift, not noticing Percy's cringing. "Just the man I was hoping to see."

"Good morning, Me. Crouch," he greeted him brightly. It was pleasing to be noticed, even if he was being called by the wrong name. 

A moment later, Mr Crouch still hadn't responded, simply standing there looking deep in thought. It was then that he took a good look at his boss. Mr. Crouch really was looking worse for the wear. His robes were crooked and splattered with coffee, his eyes had a vaguely wild look. Percy idly wondered if he had ever learned to do any kind of housekeeping charms on his own. He had released his house elf several months prior after some rather scandalous behavior at the Quidditch World Cup.

"Is everything alright, Sir?" Percy followed up, becoming somewhat concerned. 

"Of course, Weatherby," Mr. Crouch scoffed. "I simply got lost in thought. Things are very busy these days, very busy indeed," he said and Percy nodded. The two of them began walking toward their department's offices and Mr. Crouch continued, "That's precisely why I wanted to speak to you. I find myself in need of an assistant and I'd like you to take the job."

_ Well, then! _ Percy thought happily. This was a welcome development to be sure. "I'd be glad to take the job, Sir. I'll just need to finish up the cauldron project first," he said, intelligent black eyes flashing in his mind. 

"Of course, Weatherby," he agreed. "You're doing very important work. You'll simply have to split your duties until that's finished."

Suppressing a sigh, Percy nodded again. He had always been willing to work hard, particularly if it landed him closer to where he wanted to be. He sometimes wondered how on earth he'd been put in Gryffindor, if he was being honest. Really, any of the other Houses would probably have fit him better and he likely would have been more accepted in one of them than he had been in Gryffindor. Maybe if he'd been in Slytherin or Hufflepuff, he'd have friends to spend his evenings with now instead of spending his time with his parents, his books, and his fantasies of unattainable, emotionally unavailable men. 

He scratched his head as Mr. Crouch finished telling him about his new responsibilities before heading into his office and closing the door. Allowing himself a very brief moment to breathe, he then walked over to his own desk.  _ I'd better get straight to work,  _ he thought, _ now that I have double the amount of work to do.  _

The first thing that he did at his desk that day was pen a second letter to Severus Snape. A tiny amount of excitement worked its way into his brain as he wrote. After the way he'd bungled the ending of their last meeting, he was grateful for an excuse to arrange a second one, to hopefully leave on a better note than before. 

◇■◇■◇■◇

Hermes winged his way to Hogwarts, hooting happily as he did so. He knew that, once he had done his duty, delivering his letter to the dark-eyes-potion-man, he'd be able to rest in the owlery there. And he knew that, in the owlery, he would find his lovely friend, the little grey owl who'd visited him a few nights ago. Soaring high above the Scottish highlands, he very much looked forward to seeing his girl. 


	3. Chapter 3

_ Do I have time to meet with Percy Weasley in Hogsmeade? _ Severus huffed as he incinerated a piece of parchment left on the floor by some careless student.  _ Of course I have time. I have no bloody life outside this blasted castle. But that's beside the point.  _

What was the point, though? Severus wasn't sure that he even knew. The boy made him feel things and he wasn't sure he liked it. Percy seemed to look at him differently than anyone else ever had, like he was valued and worthy of respect, like he was interesting. He wasn't used to that. Even among his coworkers, who always treated him respectfully enough, he never got the impression that they were particularly interested in him, and certainly the students that he taught and supervised day in and day out viewed him with vague antagonism at best. 

_ Sweet Salazar, _ he thought. Percy had been one of his students. And only a year ago, at that. He absolutely should not be entertaining any kind of interest for the boy. 

Although… it wasn't as if he'd thought anything of the sort when Percy had been a student. Sure, he'd been a good student, one that Severus had easily foreseen a successful future for, but it wasn't until he'd come in last week, so clearly an adult and exuding quiet confidence, that he'd had any inkling of  _ that _ sort of interest. 

Severus paced back and forth in the potions classroom as he wrestled with his inner thoughts. The clack of his boots against the stone floor was satisfying and the smell of smoke lingered in the air. Cauldrons were still melting with annoying frequency. He thought about Percy's blue eyes, bright behind practical horn-rimmed glasses. He thought about his bright hair, curlier than any other Weasley he'd ever seen; he always did have a thing for red hair. 

Sighing, he finally grabbed a piece of parchment and hastily wrote an agreement, summoning a house elf to take it to the owlery before he could change his mind. The cauldron problem still needed to be resolved and, with everything that was going on at Hogwarts – the Tri-Wizard Tournament and foreign witches and wizards arriving any day now – he could use a distraction. And in spite of his misgivings about all of it, he couldn't deny that Percy was a welcome distraction. Surely nothing more than his own anxiety would come of it anyway; young practical Percy Weasley wouldn't be interested in his greasy former professor in that sort of capacity, no matter how much Snape didn't hate the thought of it. 

◇■◇■◇■◇

Saturday arrived more quickly than expected and Snape was still feeling rather skeptical of this meeting. It was one thing to meet a Ministry Worker in a professional capacity in his office and quite another to meet them for a drink in Hogsmeade. Still, he had made a commitment, so he put on his cloak and headed to town, sticking to the shadows so as to avoid talking to anyone as his mind wandered. 

The brisk October air chilled him a bit as he crunched over fallen leaves on the path. He buried his hands deep in his cloak pockets, his fingers clenched around the cool wood of his wand.

Later that day, the students from other schools would be arriving ready for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. He wasn't sure exactly what to think about any of that. It seemed like quite a risk as far as he was concerned. The Ministry was full of incompetence and they were all living in trying times. The Dark Lord had attempted to return twice in three years and adding international security issues to that seemed like a bad idea. Not that Dumbledore ever listened to him, of course. He simply kept his mouth shut and went along with the old man for the most part. What else could he do? 

It was not a bad thing, he decided, to have a distraction, even if it did come in the form of Percy Weasley. It would do him no good to sit in the castle stewing about what could go wrong, about what sort of trouble Harry Potter could find himself in this year. Because it always seemed to come down to Potter in the end. The vast majority of problems in his life seemed to come down to one Potter or another, so it was nothing new, but it never stopped being irritating. 

When he arrived at The Three Broomsticks, Percy was already there waiting for him, standing outside the entrance looking anxious. His ginger hair shone in the sunlight, all facets of copper and rust, his eyes were bright behind horn-rimmed glasses. He wore a navy blue cloak over practical looking robes and Severus thought he looked amazing. He always had been fond of redheads. 

"Mr. Weasley," he greeted as he got close enough to be heard, feeling a bit of warmth inside, a sharp contrast to the autumn air, when Percy's face lit up. 

"Ah, good afternoon, Severus. Erm. Professor Snape," he stumbled over his words. 

Severus smirked. "I am not your professor any longer," he intoned. "Severus will do."

"Of course," he replied, his cheeks going a bit pink as he tested the name, "Severus. Please call me Percy, then."

Nodding, Severus decided that he liked the way that Percy said his name, the sibilant sound rolling softly over his tongue. They went inside and found a table near the back, far from the coolness that swept in whenever the door was opened. Removing his cloak, Severus basked in the warmth of the pub and took a seat across from Percy. 

Over the course of the afternoon, Severus found himself growing fonder and fonder of Percy Weasley. Not only was he intelligent and capable, he was also incredibly witty and, even beyond that, he seemed to truly respect Severus. They had long since gotten all talk of cauldrons out of the way, yet still they sat, not as teacher and student or even as colleagues, but as something like friends. Severus hadn't felt such easiness with another person in a very long time. 

"How did you deal with being such a young professor?" Percy asked. "I am working so hard and I've just gotten a big promotion, yet my boss can't even remember my name and my mother is still keeping track of where I'm at," he laughed self-deprecatingly. "I feel like I'm pretending to be grown."

Smirking, Severus replied, "I became very very mean."

"I never thought you were mean, Severus," Percy said, his blue eyes conveying some emotion that Severus couldn't quite pinpoint. It was almost as if he was… interested. 

"Perhaps not to you," he conceded, his voice sounding huskier than intended. Percy smiled gently back at him and he found himself returning the smile. What was he doing?

"I should be going," he said, after gazing stupidly at Percy for a moment. "The Tri-Wizard Contestants are due to arrive this evening. I should make sure my House is prepared to behave." If he was being honest, it really wasn't his House that he was concerned about, but he could only do so much where the others were concerned. 

"Of course," Percy said, his voice returning to professionalism. "With my promotion, I may have some kind of hand in the Tournament. Perhaps I'll see you soon."

"I would very much like that," Severus said, shaking his hand before they parted ways. The fact that he truly meant it was something of a surprise. The fact that the warm feeling of Percy's hand lingered on his palm was something he actively avoided thinking about, though he did rub that hand along his cheek briefly when he was certain he was alone. It had been far too long since he had felt any kind of warmth directed at him. 

◇■◇■◇■◇

As it turned out, it was not his students that he needed to worry about acting inappropriately. It was Igor fucking Karkaroff. 

The Durmstrang ship had emerged from the surface of the Black Lake not long after the ostentatious French carriage, pulled by ostentatious French horses, landed on the castle grounds. Severus rolled his eyes at both.  _ Dreadful show-offs, the lot of them,  _ he thought. All of the Hogwarts students stood in awe as the children from the other schools arrived. He supposed an utterly garish display of magic was what it took to make them act appropriately for once in their lives. Severus, for his part, stood behind his Slytherins, feeling rather bored by the entire thing. He didn’t know why the Ministry had persisted in doing this at all, but he would do his duty, regardless of how stupid it seemed.

There was some commotion when a French girl, part veela by the look of her, came off of the Beauxbatons carriage and the vast majority of the boys seemed to lose their minds. He cuffed a few on the backs of their heads and they seemed to come to their senses. When their headmistress exited the carriage at the end of the procession of powder-blue garbed French students, Severus determined that breeding with creatures must be more common in France. She was at least as large as Hagrid and it was with some amusement that he noted Hagrid’s immediate infatuation with her. Perhaps there would be something interesting happening because of this infernal tournament, after all.

The second round of commotion came when the Bulgarians began making their way out of their ship and one of them turned out to be some sort of Quidditch player. It wasn’t only the boys who lost their minds then, although Severus couldn’t particularly see the appeal. The boy’s nose was at least as large as his. Perhaps he should have taken a greater interest in Quidditch, he thought. Not that he’d have wanted anyone fawning over him like that, but it would assuredly have been better than what he had endured during his school days.

The third bit of commotion was one that only impacted him and it happened after the students had begun to go back inside, to head to the Great Hall for the welcoming feast. 

“Severus, it is nice to see you again,” Karkaroff caught up with him after greeting the Headmaster and glanced over at him lasciviously as they walked.

“It most certainly is not,” Severus replied unhappily. He would have been perfectly fine with never seeing Igor again after the way that they’d parted. 

They had never been in a relationship, of course. Igor Karkaroff had nothing to offer someone like him; he was a coward and, for all of his intelligence, he was incredibly stupid about anything practical. Still, they had worked together under the Dark Lord’s regime, back before he had defected, before his world had fallen apart. At certain times back then there had been an urge for them to take care of certain physical needs. Igor had been convenient and agreeable, nothing more. The last time he’d seen Igor had been at the Ministry when the man had tried to throw him under the proverbial Knight Bus just for a taste of freedom. It hadn’t helped since Severus himself had already been cleared by Dumbledore, but the fact that he’d done it at all left a bad taste in his mouth. He had absolutely no desire to start anything up with the likes of him just then or ever again.

“Don’t be like that, Severus,” Karkaroff said in a smooth slimy tone, grabbing for Severus’ arm.

He jerked quickly away. “Since you seem incapable of reading nuance,” Severus said, his voice low and dangerous, “let me be clearer. Leave me the fuck alone.”

He stalked away quickly, not giving Igor the chance to reply. As he walked, he noticed Moody standing in the shadows and staring at them, an unreadable expression on his craggy face. Severus rolled his eyes. Let him stare, he thought. It was no secret that the mad old auror had a deep level of hatred for Death Eaters, even those who had been acquitted by the legal system. He wasn’t concerned. There was nothing that Moody could do to him. He had no power here. And if he wanted to go after Karkaroff, well, Severus certainly wouldn’t get in the way of it.

When he got to the Great Hall, he took a seat between Minerva and Aurora to ensure that Karkaroff would not have easy access to him here. Of course, he noted with some disdain that the man was directing his own students to sit with his Slytherins, but there was nothing to be done for that. That was likely where they’d fit in best anyway, and it wasn’t the students’ fault that their headmaster was an arse.

He endured the feast, ignoring Karkaroff’s obnoxious face glancing over at him every few minutes, but making polite conversation with the witches on either side of him. Never let it be said that Severus Snape was incapable of being nice, he thought. He just wasn’t nice to the people that he hated, and that happened to be most people. He endured Dumbledore’s dramatic speech about the wider wizarding world coming together for this age-old tournament. Leave it to him to put a positive spin on the death games they were planning to hold at a school of children, Severus thought, but he managed to refrain from rolling his dark eyes as the old man spoke. He endured as the Ministry officials came into the room to give more detailed instructions to the students and he endured as most of the students ignored instruction in favor of whispering excitedly about glory and riches. 

He studied Barty Crouch as he spoke, in the dullest way possible, of safety precautions and age limits. Crouch was certainly intelligent and he was certainly more than capable, but he couldn’t help thinking that Percy would look better standing there. He thought, with some amusement, that the students would be no more interested in Percy’s recital of the rules, but Severus would be more interested.

When all was said and done, Severus ushered his Slytherins back to their dorm, thankful that they had enough decorum to wait until he was out of earshot to begin their inevitable discussion of the tournament. He knew they’d be talking, plotting and scheming ways to break the rules, boasting amongst themselves of the certainty of their success at being chosen, but he did not particularly want to hear it. He had no patience for it.

Dodging into an abandoned alcove to avoid Karkaroff, Snape made his way up to the owlery, to his little Hortense. Perched on the ledge of a window, with Hortense on his shoulder nipping at his hair, he wrote to Percy despite having just seen him that morning. He hoped it wouldn’t come across as too eager, but at the same time, he didn’t think that Percy was the sort to mind. He was very straight-forward and direct. Severus was sure he’d appreciate the same in return.

_ Percy, _

_ The Tri-Wizard students arrived this evening and all went well. The Headmaster of Durmstrang is an old associate of mine and I am less than pleased to be in his proximity again, but there is nothing to do for it. I have come to the owlery to avoid him this evening and there is no one else that I would like to write to.  _

_ Speaking with you in Hogsmeade today was lovely. I am sorry to have cut our time together short, but it couldn’t be helped. I would very much like to meet with you again in the near future. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Severus Snape _


	4. Chapter 4

“Oh, Percy!” Molly called. “You’ve an owl here, dear. Who’s writing you at this hour?”

Carefully and with some regret, Percy marked the page that he was on. Gunther and Leopold would have to wait. “Coming, mum,” he called as he wrapped his dressing robe around himself and made his way down the twisting irregular stairs of The Burrow. 

“Oh!” he exclaimed when he reached the kitchen where Molly waited with a little grey owl. “That’s Hortense,” he said, explaining that she belonged to a friend. He really didn’t want to tell her exactly who Hortense belonged to because he knew it would only make her ask more questions. He was rather certain that she didn’t ask so many questions of the twins as she probably didn’t want to know what they were up to or of Ron whom she largely ignored. Not that it mattered at this point. Ron and the twins weren’t here. Ginny and Bill and Charlie weren’t here. It was only him and his parents and, for someone who’d always felt rather annoyed by their crowded home, it was strange that he wished it was just a bit more crowded at this point. 

Ignoring the rest of his mother’s questions, he grabbed an owl treat and headed back upstairs with Hortense perched on his arm. No sooner had he stepped into his room and kicked the door closed behind him than the bird was flying away from him to the little nest by the window. She nuzzled against Hermes for a moment before sticking her leg out impatiently, waiting for him to remove the letter so that she could get comfortable. Percy grinned at the owls.

“I wish it was that easy for me,” he told them wistfully, but they didn’t pay him any mind. He gently untied the letter from Hortense’s tiny leg and stepped back with it. Giving them one more incredulous glance, he flopped back onto his bed, the letter clutched to his chest.  _ What  _ **_would_ ** _ Severus be writing to me at this hour for, _ he wondered.

Sitting up again, he chastised himself for acting like a besotted schoolgirl and studiously ignored the golden gaze of the owls on the perch. Carefully, he unsealed the folded parchment in his hand, a smile playing on his lips as he read the short note.  _ There is no one else he wants to write to, _ he thought wildly. Coming from someone as stoic as Severus Snape, that was practically a declaration of love.

Crawling back into bed, he buried himself under the covers with Severus’ letter this time, rather than Gunther and Leopold. Idly, he traced the slanting letters of Snape’s script and thought about what he would write back and what the future might hold and whether Hermes and Hortense were an indication of how things may play out for their owners. He liked the idea that they were, indeed, a sign of things to come, despite the fact that he knew that was utterly ridiculous. Sometimes, he thought as he drifted off to sleep, things didn’t have to make sense. That was the trouble with love, he knew, and it was also the wonderful thing about it. It never made sense at all, but somehow it made more sense because of that.

When he dreamed that night, it was that he and Severus were thestral herders, but their thestrals were just large owls. They were stupidly in love and there were no problems in their simple little world. He woke up refreshed and happy the next morning and it was a good thing, too. His reality would soon be getting more complicated by the day and the hope and promise of pleasant dreams would do much to help him through the trials to come.

◇■◇■◇■◇

The next morning, Percy got up early and read over his letter again before responding, sending a reluctant Hortense back out the window and back to Hogwarts with a brief reply, a few short words of greeting and friendly affection. He put on the work robes that he wore to work and combed his red hair neatly, winking at the mirror when it complimented him in a wheezy voice. Breakfast was no different than usual. His mum was a great cook, as always, and a great nag, also as always. 

“Do you plan on ever telling me who your mystery letter was from?” she asked, obviously aiming for casual and missing by a mile. Her brown eyes were warm and interested and he felt a moment of gratefulness for her. Irritating as she could be, she did truly care.

Blushing slightly, he replied, “Just someone from Hogwarts, mum,” then stuffed his mouth full of toast before she could ask any follow-up questions.

“So, you’re seeing someone younger than you,” she speculated and he nearly spit out his toast. She couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Not only was he not technically seeing anyone at all, but the person that he was not technically seeing was certainly not younger than him.

“I’m not seeing anyone at all, mum,” he assured her after he’d recovered. 

"Well, I quite liked that Penelope," she prodded on. He hadn't the heart to tell her that he and Penelope had largely been an experiment for both of them and had resulted in them becoming one another's beards for a time. He knew that she didn't have any problem with gay wixen – she was a fan of Dumbledore, after all – but he also knew that she wanted grandchildren and she wanted them soon. He knew that she was counting on him, practical Percy, to provide them. 

"Penelope's gone abroad, mum," he said noncommittally. "And I've got to get to the office." He finished the last of his tea and stood, kissing her on the cheek as he made his way to the Floo. "I'll see you this evening."

Work, as it happened, was anything but straightforward. Mr. Crouch continued to call him Weatherby and he was beginning not to mind it. It was like a sort of work alter-ego, the boy who did everything for zero recognition. It wasn't, perhaps, the best alter-ego one could hope for, but it did allow him to avoid certain people simply because they were looking for a Weatherby and he didn't technically know anyone by that name. 

So the fact that his boss got his name wrong was well enough. The fact that his boss seemed to be slowly devolving into insanity was another thing entirely. 

"Weatherby, have you heard from my house elf?" he asked frantically that morning. 

"Erm. The house elf you released over the summer?" Percy asked in confusion.

Mr. Crouch chuckled grimly. "I had no choice, you know."

Percy nodded knowingly. "Of course not, Sir. She was disobedient and you couldn't let it slide."

"Right you are," Mr Crouch agreed, but he walked away muttering in a way that left Percy feeling rather disconcerted.

He seemed alright for the rest of the day, though, so maybe he was simply having an off morning, Percy thought. It couldn't be easy living without a house elf after having had one for so long. 

They met with foreign officials that afternoon and he seemed confident and self-assured. They discussed the upcoming Tri-Wizard Tournament and he seemed excited, at the top of his game. It was no trouble, after the rest of the day, for Percy to forget that moment of oddity. 

It was no trouble, for the rest of the week, for Percy to forget that moment of oddity. Days went by, work got done. His mother nagged and he put her off. He wrote to Severus and he read his books in the privacy of his Burrow bedroom. 

And so it went, until it didn't. 

Saturday came and Percy spent the day researching magic carpet regulations. He was of the mind that there should be no ban on them, as broomsticks were no less muggle than carpets, and carpets were far more practical for the modern wizarding family. He had a pleasant dinner with his family and retreated to his room where he had a pleasant letter from Severus waiting for him, along with a pair of cozy-looking owls. 

It seemed that Severus was concerned about the Goblet of Fire. He'd been watching the students every possible moment, but he still worried that something would inevitably go wrong. Percy sat down, an indulgent smile on his freckled face, to write him back, reassuring him that they'd taken every possible precaution and that all would be well when the Floo chimed. 

Curious as to who would be calling at this late hour, he opened his door and headed downstairs, surprised to hear a frantic-sounding Mr. Crouch asking his father to speak with Weatherby immediately. 

"I'm right here, dad," he interjected quickly. A relieved-looking Arthur stepped back and Percy moved into his place by the Floo. "Good evening, Mr. Crouch," he said, trying to project calm and confidence. His boss was clearly stressed and he worried that maybe Severus had been right.

"Weatherby!" Mr. Crouch exclaimed. "An extra name came out of the Goblet tonight. Harry Potter will have to compete."

Percy groaned. He knew the magical bonds that were tied to the Goblet. He'd researched them extensively in the weeks leading up to tonight. There was no way around it; Harry Potter would indeed have to compete, or he'd lose his magic. It was unthinkable! "I'll meet you at the office, Sir."


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn't just Potter's name coming out of the Goblet. He'd almost expected that at this point. The boy managed to find himself in moral danger every year and Severus was beginning to get used to it. No, that was not Severus' problem. Not his only problem, at any rate. 

It was Igor Karkaroff and his increasingly brazen advances. It was the mark on his arm burning and tingling more each day, growing gradually clearer like a portent of doom. It was Mad-Eye Moody, ever present, ever staring. He was creepy as hell, and that was saying something coming from a man like Severus Snape. There was something in the way he licked his lips that felt both familiar and not and it left Severus feeling slimy. 

With all of that going on, Severus felt as though he was spending every waking minute trying to wash the dirty feelings off of his pale skin, but he knew in his heart that that wasn't exactly true either. He was spending every waking moment watching, observing, trying to decipher the riddle that seemed to be playing out before his very eyes. The bathing only occurred in conjunction with the thinking, late in the night, long after even the most disobedient students had gone to bed.

The only thing keeping him sane, the only thing that gave him any peace, were the moments each day that he spent writing to Percy or reading what Percy had written to him. It still amazed him that a missive fired off in anger about too-thin cauldron bottoms had resulted in this friendship, but it had and, what's more, he was finally comfortable calling it a friendship. They wrote to each other daily, exchanging anecdotes and worries about their day and occasionally hopes and plans for the future, though for his part he was careful to keep those vague. It wouldn't do to attach himself so firmly to this boy who was only looking for a friend. 

Wasn't he? 

It didn't matter, he decided. A friend was more than he'd had in years and he was grateful for it. At least their owls didn't seem to mind making the trip, he thought as he listened to Hermes and Hortense trilling softly to one another in the owlery. It must be nice to have someone to connect with like that. 

_ Percy, _

_ I am increasingly concerned about what is going on at Hogwarts and I'm certain that Potter is in the middle of it, not because he seems to be seeking it out this time, but because he is always in the middle of it. Everything here seems off, but I cannot place my finger on the reason for it. _

_ If you would be open to it, I would like to meet up. The first task is this Thursday. If you have the time on Saturday, we could discuss things in person then.  _

_ Yours,  _

_ Severus Snape _

  
  


"Who're you writing to, Severus?" A gruff voice startled him as he folded the parchment. The fold went all crooked but he didn't bother trying to fix it just then, opting to slip it in the pocket of his robes instead, grateful that he was faced with Moody rather than Karkaroff just then. Igor had always been able to steal anything, to pick any pocket. It had been an invaluable skill for a Death Eater, but it would be highly annoying in this situation.

"Ah, Professor Moody," he said as he recovered. "I didn't see you there."

"Of course you didn't. I didn't want to be seen," Moody smirked. "But I saw you. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" 

Severus schooled his face into a blank expression. Moody's theatrics meant nothing to him. There was something odd about that man. "Quite," he said in a cool voice. "I was simply writing to a friend." Not that it was any of his business, of course, but he knew that Moody could see whatever he wanted to with that creepy rolling eye, so it did no good to hide it from him. If he wanted to know, he would.

"Didn't know your sort had friends," he said derisively, fixing his eyes, both natural and magical, on Severus' arm. 

Severus simply stared back and motioned for Hortense. She came to him obediently, if a bit reluctantly. Hermes chirped at him in annoyance. 

Without breaking his gaze, he extracted the letter from his pocket, tied it haphazardly to her little leg and sent her off with it, trusting that she'd take care of it whether it was folded neatly or not. He did hope that Percy would be able to meet with him soon. There was more going on than a letter could contain.

◇■◇■◇■◇

The morning of the first task arrived, bright and cool, and Severus got to the Great Hall before anyone else. There were all sorts of rumors circulating about the champions – particularly about Potter – and the whole castle seemed more interested in the latest gossip than they did in eating. Severus paid it no mind. He, of all people, knew that what was reported in the paper was rarely more than partial truth, and where the status of their young celebrity was concerned, it was likely to be even less than that. 

When Potter did finally arrive, his favourite muggle-born by his side and his pet ginger conspicuously absent, he looked grim but determined, so Severus assumed that he had some sort of plan. That was good. He didn't especially want to have to save the boy's life again, but he knew he'd do so if needed. Dragons were not high on his list of creatures he desired to face.

The absence of Weasley by Potter's side was odd, though. It certainly wasn't the oddest thing that was happening at the school and Severus generally stayed as far as possible from the drama of his students' lives, but his own affections for a certain Weasley left him wondering about Ronald. Percy rarely wrote of his brothers at all and, given what Severus did know of him, the youngest Weasley son was not as practical as his older brother. He was still surprised, though, by his lack of loyalty to Potter. 

Shrugging that thought off for its uselessness, Severus returned to scanning the room. The other champions wore the same kind of sick but determined looks that Potter did, so it was fairly safe to assume that word of the dragons had spread. There were no secrets in a school that size and there were especially no secrets when it came to four dragons being brought to the school grounds.

Moody stood, creepy and watchful, in the corner of the Great Hall. Karkaroff was sitting next to Krum, likely going over last minute strategies. Everything seemed to be in place. Severus waited for the other shoe to drop.

He waited all morning as Potter was pulled early out of his class and he waited as he walked the grounds to the stands that had been erected for the first task. He waited as three champions fought their dragons and he waited as Potter came out of the tent, as Potter summoned a broom, as Potter flew like the devil. He waited until scores were distributed and the stands cleared out, and still there was no shoe. Not even a sandal. Not so much as an infant's knitted bootie dropped. Far from being relieved by this, Severus was disconcerted. He was bothered. 

He wrote to Percy of his concerns knowing that he'd either soothe his fears or commiserate and Severus was fine with either one. He stood in the owlery for a long time after Hermes had winged his way back to his owner, staring at the stars until one of his own students stumbled up to the owlery with a Hufflepuff. They tried to pretend that they hadn't been coming there to snow once they saw Severus standing there, but he couldn't be bothered with the amorous feelings of adolescents. Rolling his eyes, he stalked down the stairs, leaving them to it without a word.

He gave the halls a perfunctory walk, but any students that were out of their dorms were hiding well, or else his heart wasn't in it. Something big was afoot and he knew it. His skin itched with the need to know, but still he couldn't work it out. Eventually, he headed back to his own quarters. He was accomplishing nothing anyway, and if he was in his own rooms, he could be assured of avoiding Igor if nothing else.

A bath, he decided, was the thing that he needed. Anything to soothe his anxiety, anything to make him feel clean. Lighting a few candles in his dim dungeon quarters, he ran a bath that was as hot as he could stand and dropped in a generous measure of mint and eucalyptus oil to clear his head and help him think. 

When it came right down to it, though, the only thing he found himself able to think about was ginger hair and soft freckles skin and warm bright eyes. He felt certain that if Percy were there with him, they'd be able to work it all out. Between their two sharp minds, he thought, there was nothing they couldn't do, nothing they couldn't figure out. 

And even more than that, he thought the bath would feel better with someone else in it, with fingers that weren't his own massaging his scalp, with a warm chest to lean back against instead of cold porcelain. He thought that his bed would feel better if he weren't alone in it, alone as he had always really been. Above all, though, he thought that his mind would feel better, his soul would feel better, if he could share his thoughts with someone, someone he trusted, someone he could grow to love.

Love had never been a priority for him before and he was forced, as he climbed out of the bath and dried himself off, to recognize that he had changed. Had it happened when Percy had first written to him or when he had taken his concerns about the cauldrons seriously? Or perhaps it was when he'd called the students in the hall, what was it, idiotic buffoons. The memory made him chuckle. Regardless of exactly when it had happened, Severus could say with certainty that something had awoken within him those past few months that was unlike anything he had ever felt before. Responsibility, anger, duty, irritation… those were things that he understood. This yearning, this aching desire for the touch of another person, for the sound of their voice, was something new.

But he didn't hate it. He didn't hate it at all.

◇■◇■◇■◇

Saturday brought with it an entirely new set of problems. There were ingredients missing from his private potions stores and he was reasonably certain that it wasn't Potter's doing this time. He'd spent the night wandering the castle dungeons trying to find anyone who looked suspicious, but the only other person he found was Moody. (Filch's accursed cat certainly didn't count. Even in his sleep deprived state, he felt he could be relatively sure that cats could not steal potions ingredients and, even if they could, squibs and felines were incapable of brewing polyjuice.) 

It was yet another piece in a seemingly unsolvable puzzle and it was a piece which left him even more bewildered and troubled than before. The use of polyjuice meant that anyone he saw could be someone else and he didn't like it. 

On a more positive note, he was meeting Percy in Hogsmeade so not everything was awful, which was, perhaps, the most that Severus Snape could hope for. It was more than he’d had in recent years at the very least. As he walked the path to town, bundled up against the chilly December air, he wondered who could be using polyjuice. Was it a student playing a prank? Not likely; there were more ingredients missing than a prank would warrant. Was it Karkaroff? Was he up to something nefarious and using lascivity as a cover? That seemed like a distinct possibility. And there was still Moody to consider. There was something about the old Auror that made Severus deeply uncomfortable, thought Dumbledore seemed to trust him implicitly. Not that that made much difference, he thought with a snort. Dumbledore trusted most anyone. 

Percy stood in Hogsmeade like a breath of fresh air. His bright curls, tousled by the wind, were shining in the sunlight and his face was friendly and open. He smiled as Severus approached and Severus found himself smiling back. 

“Percy,” he greeted as he got closer and there was a moment where they both seemed unsure what to do. A hug seemed far too forward, a handshake far too formal.

Finally Percy rested his hand on Severus’ shoulder and said, “Shall we?” and Severus was eternally grateful. He was acutely reminded of why he didn’t often socialize with others. His awkwardness knew no bounds. But this was Percy, he reminded himself. Percy, a person he felt closer and more connected to than any other. Percy, his friend.

After they sat down in the The Three Broomsticks at the same table as before (did they have a regular spot now, Severus wondered), the awkwardness subsided and they proceeded to catch up on trivialities as they waited for their food and drink to arrive. 

“Severus, you would not believe what my mum is doing now,” Percy began, his face a mix of amusement and annoyance.

“I find that I’d believe quite a lot about Molly Weasley,” Severus replied. The woman was both a formidable witch and a notorious busy-body. He couldn’t imagine what she could be up to that would surprise him or anyone else who knew her.

“She’s attempting to arrange a marriage for me,” he said dryly and Severus sucked in a breath involuntarily. “She won’t hear a word against it. She thinks that times are troubled right now and starting a family would be a way of bringing happiness to me and to the family.”

“Are you-” Severus began before clearing his throat. “Are you interested in an arranged marriage?” he asked. Surely Molly Weasley would allow her children to choose their own partners if they wished it. Of all the things he’d expected to hear, it wasn’t that. Molly didn’t strike him as one who fell back on the old pureblood ways. 

Taking a deep breath, Severus tried to think impartially. This was not something he needed on his mind right now, but if it was a possibility, it would be best for him to get used to it immediately. “Would an arranged marriage be so bad?” he asked, the words tasting sour on his tongue. “I know many for whom it has worked out well.” He thought of Lucius and Narcissa. For all of their many faults, their marriage was a happy one.

“It would be so bad, Severus,” Percy said. “It would be the worst thing for me. I have no interest in witches, for one.” He paused to take a sip of butterbeer, looking far more nervous than the conversation really warranted. Severus wasn’t the one trying to arrange his future. “I’m only interested in you,” he said earnestly, meeting Severus’ eyes.

Oh.  _ Oh. _ That certainly changed things considerably. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to be caught up in the feeling, imagining a future where he could be with Percy, where they could live happily together for years, where they were safe and the world was a sane place. A twinge in his left arm brought him back to himself.

“I struggle to think of anything but you,” he confessed slowly. “But there is more to me than you know. There are things that you must know before you continue down that line of thinking.”

“Whatever it is, it won’t matter to me,” Percy said with certainty. “I know my mind. I know my heart. Even our owls know, Severus.”

Severus chuckled at the reminder of Hermes and Hortense. They did make quite a handsome couple, their little lovebirds. “I have a home in London,” he said. “It is shabby and horrid, but it is private. Could we talk there when we finish here?” he implored.

A freckled hand covered his on top of the table. It was warm and soft, in stark contrast to the burning mark that lay further up his arm. “Of course,” Percy said, seeming relieved that Severus had not rejected him outright. How he could ever think such a thing was beyond Severus. Percy was a prize, a treasure, a handsome young man from an upstanding family with an upstanding job and a past free of any black marks. He was many things that Severus could never be.

He hastened to change the subject. There were things that could be spoken later, in private, and then there were things that he needed to clear his mind of immediately so that he could give Percy the conversation he deserved later. With that goal firmly in mind, he unloaded all of the disjointed thoughts that had been running through his mind that he’d been unable to write about: Potter’s name in the Goblet of Fire, Karkaroff’s unwelcome advances, Moody’s utter creepiness, the missing polyjuice ingredients, and above all, the vague feeling deep in his gut that something was wrong, that he was missing something.

Percy’s face grew incredibly thoughtful, his brow furrowed, as he mulled over everything that Severus told him. “I may have one thing to add,” he said slowly, “but I’m not sure how it could be connected.” His features tightened as if he was hesitating to say anything, but finally he continued. “My boss, Mr. Crouch has been very erratic lately. Sometimes he doesn’t come to work at all. Sometimes he comes in and makes strange comments, but then changes the subject quickly. I’ve been covering for him,” he said quickly as if he didn’t want Severus to think he was shirking his duties. “He keeps talking about Dumbledore and that’s the only reason I mention it,” he said. “And he keeps talking about his son. But Severus, I looked up information about his son. I didn’t even know he had one. And I found that his son died in Azkaban years ago.”

Severus’ eyes widened as some of the pieces came together in his mind. He flagged Rosmerta down and hastily gave her a handful of galleons. “Let’s go now,” he said. “There is more to discuss than I thought.”


	6. Chapter 6

Percy was confused by Severus’ insistence on departing so abruptly, but he didn’t argue it. He had noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the worn tired look to his face. If he felt that there was something to be discussed immediately in private, Percy was not about to deny him. He made a mental note to pay Severus back later for his half of their bill though. It didn’t warrant mentioning at the moment, but he didn’t want any kind of inequality in their relationship, whatever it was becoming.

He hadn’t really intended to declare his feelings right there in the middle of The Three Broomsticks. His only real intention had been to ask Severus’ advice on dealing with pushy parents as he’d certainly dealt with his fair share in his years as a professor, but upon seeing the face he was so fond of, all tired and worn-looking, he couldn’t seem to hold back. It had felt like he’d be throwing something precious away if he didn’t tell him. He couldn’t bear the thought. Perhaps that was why he’d been in Gryffindor, he thought. He doubted that Slytherins went around spilling their feelings out in the middle of a busy Hogsmeade pub. In fact, given Severus’ response, that they go somewhere more private, he was certain of that.

After Severus had paid, they went out the door and Severus gave him a somber questioning look. That look said so much that Percy struggled to process it all. It asked if he trusted him, it asked if he was certain, it asked for acceptance. Percy didn’t hesitate to nod back. Yes to all of it. Yes to so much more. Severus took his hand gently, holding it in his own as if it were something precious, and Apparated them away.

The house that they landed in was indeed shabby. Severus hadn’t lied about that. Percy had grown up in relative poverty, but nothing in his upbringing prepared him for the run-down little house that Severus owned. There were stacks of books everywhere, obscuring peeling yellowed wallpaper and dusty worn flooring. It was small and cramped. It smelled of Severus.

“I grew up in this house,” Severus said, disgust evident in his voice. 

“It’s... nice,” Percy tried.

“It’s a shit-hole,” Severus corrected him then gave a bitter laugh. “But it is private, as I said.” 

Percy vowed then that, if this thing between them worked out, neither of them would live in poverty anymore, never again. He would work 24 hour days if necessary to keep that look of mixed embarrassment and loathing off of Severus’ pale face. 

“Sit down, please,” Severus said, gesturing to a high-backed chair by the fireplace. Percy sat, surrounding himself with the scent of eucalyptus and dust, the scent of Severus and a place that he hated. “The thing that you need to know about me,” he said, beginning to unbutton his left sleeve, “is that I was once a Death Eater.”

The only movement in the room was Severus’ white hand rolling up his black sleeve, exposing a creamy forearm marred by a greying tattoo, a skull and a snake, the Dark Mark. Percy had always heard rumours about Snape being affiliated with Dark Magic, about him hating muggles, but he had never put any stock in the rumors. People said all kinds of things about those that they didn’t like. But the proof was in front of him, literally in black and white.

His mouth felt incredibly dry as he met Severus’ gaze, looking away from the ugly mark. “You defected?” he asked softly. He must have or Dumbledore certainly wouldn’t have hired him. Although, on second thought, Dumbeldore’s hiring history did leave something to be desired, given all of the DADA teachers he’d gone through during his time at Hogwarts. 

Severus nodded and let his hands fall back to his sides. His sleeve slipped back down his arm. 

“Why did you join them?” Percy asked, not sure if the reason even mattered at this point.

“I have no good reason,” Severus began and Percy waited patiently. Whether it was a good reason or not, he wanted to know it. He gestured around the shabby room. “I grew up in this home, poor and unwanted. My father was a muggle and he was the worst sort of muggle. He hit me and, when I was not around, he hit my mother. That is what I knew of muggles and, more than anything, I wanted protection from them. 

“And then,” he continued, “I went to school. I was finally free from the shadow of my poverty. I was dressed like the other students. I worked hard so that I’d know all that they knew and more. But it wasn’t enough for some. I was abused at school and I was abused at home and when I was offered a way out of that cycle, I took it. I was promised prestige and power, freedom from muggles and freedom from abuse. I did not know, and I do not think I’d have cared at the time, that I would be starting the cycle anew. I joined for the promise of all I’d ever wanted.”

Blue eyes met black ones in sympathy, in longing. Percy wished that he could go back in time and protect Severus from everything that had ever harmed him. He deserved so much better than all that he’d been dealt. “Why did you defect?” he asked, curious about how the story ended.

“I had one friend,” Severus said, sinking down into the only other chair in the room. It looked hard but he gave no sign of discomfort. “I had one true friend in school, Lily. She was much like you. Noble, good, Gryffindor. I treated her very badly one day and she never spoke to me again, but in my mind, she lived as a beacon of light. If someone so pure had been friends with someone like me, even for a while, I couldn’t be so terrible. And the Dark Lord threatened to kill her.” A tear ran crookedly down his cheek, unnoticed as he spoke. “I begged him not to. And then I begged Dumbledore to protect her. But it was to no avail.”

They sat in silence for a time, both lost in their own spiraling thoughts. Severus had been through more in his life than most men three times his age. Abruptly, he stood and crossed the small room to where Severus sat. He dropped to his knees before him and took his hand. It was long and slender, beautiful. His bones seemed almost delicate as Percy pushed his sleeve back and exposed the Dark Mark once more. He gazed at it for a moment before bending his head and pressing his lips against it. It felt like skin, nothing more, nothing evil. It was a part of Severus.

“I see you,” Percy whispered. “And I am still interested.”

Severus looked at him sharply. His black eyes were wet but discerning. “Why?” he asked flatly.

“Because I see you,” Percy repeated. “You don’t deserve everything that’s happened to you. And you deserve a chance at something better.”

Black eyes looked back at him for a long moment. “I don’t agree,” he said finally. “But I’m not self-sacrificing enough to argue with you.”

Percy grinned. “Then I’ll just have to spend as long as it takes to convince you that I’m right.”

They sat there like that for what seemed like hours, both content to just be there. Percy’s head rested in Severus’ lap and Severus’ hands carded through his red hair. He lay his glasses aside when they started to dig into his face and he shifted when his legs started to tingle. Disturbing the moment was unthinkable, but eventually, like any other perfect moment, it ended.

“There is more to discuss,” Severus said softly, “still private, but of a less personal nature. I should let Dumbledore know that I’ll be away from the school for the evening.”

It was a bit of a surprise to Percy to find that it was, in fact, evening, or nearly so. The cool winter sun had begun creeping down the sky and evening shadows filled the already dim room. He hadn’t even noticed it happening. He stood, his knees popping in protest, and stretched. “I can go get some food while you do that,” he suggested.

Severus nodded and gave him the Apparition coordinates before lighting a fire in the fireplace. He grabbed a pot of Floo powder from the mantle and prepared to make the call as Percy spun to Apparate away. He looked forward to a time when he could kiss Severus goodbye before leaving, even for a short time, but he knew that now was not that time. He hoped it would come soon.

◇■◇■◇■◇

When he returned, he found Severus sitting again, a fire blazing in the grate, an oil lamp lit beside him, and an old yellowing copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands. “The answer, I am beginning to suspect, sounds insane,” he said without looking up. 

“I’m not here to judge you, Severus,” Percy said simply. “At worst, it’s a jumping off point; at best, you’re right and we can figure out what to do about it.” He stood there awkwardly with two greasy paper sacks of fish and chips until Severus looked up. “I didn’t know exactly what you liked, so this will have to do,” he said, grinning.

Severus smirked. “It is adequate,” he said, setting the paper aside and taking a bag from Percy. 

They began to eat and, as they did so, he told him about his suspicions. He was right; it did sound insane. If Severus was correct, Mr. Crouch’s son had faked his death in Azkaban and was currently impersonating Mad-Eye Moody. To what end, they were uncertain, but it couldn’t be anything good. The Dark Mark’s reappearance on Severus’ arm and Harry Potter’s name in the Goblet leant more credence to that fact. The worst part of it all was that it made perfect sense. He told Severus as much.

“But we have nothing to base these suspicions on,” he replied. “No one will trust me with no proof, not even Dumbledore.”

“Then we’ll have to force him to expose himself,” Percy said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “Here’s what I think,” he began, and laid out a plan to Severus. If all went well, they could have this dealt with before Christmas.

Setting aside his empty fish and chips bag, Severus gave him a calculating look. “That has potential,” he said slowly. “You would have made an excellent Slytherin.”

“I’ve often wondered why I wasn’t one honestly,” Percy said. “But if I had been, it might be more awkward if I kissed you.”

Severus snorted. “And that, Percy Weasley, is why you weren’t a Slytherin.”

Percy sat his own bag aside and walked to where Severus sat, looking down at him for a moment before settling down in his lap. “Gryffindor boldness has its uses sometimes, though,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against Severus’. 

“Hmm,” Severus murmured back. “Show me,” he said, winding his arms around Percy’s waist.

He needed no further invitation than that. Quickly, he closed the short distance between them and pressed his lips against Severus’, melting into him. 

Percy had kissed other people before. Kissing Penelope had been like kissing a friend; it was nice but not something he’d seek out. Kissing Oliver had been like a fight, all teeth and tongues, all fleeting passion. But kissing Severus was like nothing he had ever experienced before. It was like the first warm day after a snowy winter. It was like coming home to the scent of freshly baked biscuits after a stressful day at work. Severus was all flat planes and edges and they fit together perfectly, like a long-lost key finally finding its lock, like a missing ingredient added at the last possible moment. They fit together with urgency, intuitively. 

Where one kiss ended, another began. Somehow they ended up on the dusty floor, surrounded by books. They lay together there, wrapped up in one another, their worries discarded for the moment. Their clothes were getting dirty but it didn’t really matter because, for the first time, they both felt clean and right. For the first time, they were both at home.


	7. Chapter 7

The plan was crazy, Severus thought. There was no way that it would work. It was too easy! He stewed over it as he ate in the Great Hall and he stewed over it as he taught. He stewed over it as he avoided Moody’s eye, made much more disturbing by recent revelations. He stewed over it as Karkaroff made eyes at him and he stewed over it as he encouraged the idiot. There was really nothing for it. The plan was the only thing keeping him going.

Well, the plan and the knowledge that Percy Weasley was currently living at his decrepit little home on Spinner’s End and they couldn’t move forward with any other plans until this one was taken care of. He had been perfectly willing to allow Percy to stay there, thought why he would want to, he had no clue. He could certainly relate to needing distance from one’s family though, so he left him to it. He knew that he had little to offer anyway, so it was nice that he could do something for him even if that something seemed not especially nice.

The students were getting more insufferable with every day that went by and that did nothing to still Severus’ anxiety. While they all looked forward to the Yule Ball as a time to dress up and find a date, he was looking forward to it in hopes that it would end this plot before anyone got hurt. 

The Saturday before the Yule Ball was spent teaching Slytherins to dance. The only positive side to that was that he was teaching Slytherins, who largely already knew how, rather than Gryffindors or, worse, Hufflepuffs. 

“Mr. Zabini,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There is no need to be that close to Miss Greengrass. Save it for the afterparty, I implore you.” There was no sense in pretending that he didn’t know about that. If they wanted an afterparty in the common room, he wasn’t about to deny them. They’d only do it anyway and he had no desire to add more students to his nearly nightly detentions. 

Just then, the door swing open. “Severus,” Igor hissed. “I need to speak to you!”

“I am otherwise occupied, Karkaroff,” he drawled. “I’m certain that you have students who would welcome your attention for more than I would.”

“You always avoid me when you’re not busy,” Karkaroff spat. 

Severus bit back a smirk. Igor was playing perfectly into the plan. Maybe the additional stewing he’d been doing was unnecessary after all. Giving Igor an appraising look, he said, “Very well. Come back here at 5pm, before dinner. The lesson will be over and we can… talk… then.” He tried very hard not to feel sick to his stomach over the innuendo. It wasn’t as though he’d actually be doing anything with Igor. It wasn’t even as thought Percy wasn’t well aware of the plan. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. It made him feel as slimy as his students all accused him of being behind his back. Yes, he knew about that too.

◇■◇■◇■◇

The lesson ended far too quickly for Severus’ tastes. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to be teaching dancing lessons which, as far as he was concerned, should be considered far outside of his pay range. It was more that he didn’t want to meet with Karkaroff. Why was it that whenever he was doing something that he hated, time went at a normal pace, but whenever he was trying to avoid something he hated even more, time seemed to fly? It would be much nicer if time would fly forever until the world was safe and he was free, possibly with Percy. After that, time could go as slowly as it liked as far as he was concerned. 

Karkaroff arrived at precisely 5:00. If there was one thing that Death Eaters knew how to do, it was to be punctual. If they didn’t already know it, the Dark Lord had always been certain to teach that lesson the hard way. 

“Severus,” he said as he closed the door. “I see you’re finally willing to stop toying with me.”

Severus looked down at his black-painted fingernails. “Perhaps,” he said noncommittally. “Is that really the only reason you’ve been hounding me like a dog in heat?” Playing nice with his former colleagues was a good way to get stepped on. He had no intention of allowing that. 

Igor’s face darkened then. “No,” he said gruffly. “I wanted to know why the mark is coming back? Why is it burning now? He’s long gone.” He spat on the floor. The plebian. “And good riddance.”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Severus said in a cool tone, despite the fact that he’d been worried over the same thing these past few months. “Perhaps you should ask some of our other former associates. I’ve been right here doing just this for thirteen years, Igor, as I’m sure you know. You’ve been doing much the same.” 

He seemed to deflate a bit then, as if his entire hope had been based on Severus having some sort of answer for him. The only answer that Severus could give, the answer he’d been trying not to even think of, was that the Dark Lord was indeed returning. It wasn’t even worth saying. Igor was intelligent enough to have come to that conclusion on his own.

“Ah,” he said, faltering for a moment. “If that is the case, perhaps we should get reacquainted now, while we have time then?” Severus sighed. That was certainly a shorter recovery period than the news warranted. Not that it really mattered. This was what he had wanted.

“Why don’t we make plans for the night of the Yule Ball?” he suggested. “The children will be otherwise occupied and we can have as much time to ourselves as we’d like.” He was rather proud of himself for not gagging over the suggestion. “I’d just ask that you swipe Moody’s flask that night before the Ball ends. Some ingredients have gone missing from my stores and it should prove very interesting for us if we get ahold of the potion he must have in there. We can get together once the Ball is concluded.”

Igor’s eyes went wide, clearly coming to the entirely wrong conclusion, just as Severus had wanted him to. “I knew you still had it in you, Sev,” he said, raising his eyebrows conspiratorially.

Severus let the smirk come to his face then. Let Karkaroff assume whatever he wanted. “Obviously,” he said softly, giving the other man a sidelong glance before he strolled out of the room. “See you Saturday, Igor.”

◇■◇■◇■◇

As usual, the following week flew by rather quickly. He was teaching students and hosting detentions, doing things that he hated while waiting for something he dreaded more. The only bright spot in it all is that, while Saturday would bring quite a lot of drama if all went well, Saturday would also bring him Percy. He found that, when he focused on that side of it, it seemed all the more bearable.

Saturday morning was spent making sure that the Slytherins were preparing themselves for the ball, that they were dressed appropriately, and most of all that they did nothing to embarrass him. He honestly couldn’t be bothered with what they did after the Ball, so long as they behaved like proper little purebloods while they were there, while they were in front of people who could report their behaviour to their parents. The last thing he needed at a time like this was an irritated Lucius Malfoy or an angry Posey Parkinson sending him a howler.

Beyond that, he only needed to ready himself. Generally speaking, he’d wear the same thing that he always wore to an event like this. He saw no need to truss himself up like a pureblood when everyone knew that he was far from it. Tonight, however, meant Percy. His first event with Percy, even though they wouldn’t technically be attending it together. Not this time, anyway. 

He soaked in the tub for a long time, scrubbing his hair, cleaning his face and body, soaking in his favourite scent. He found that eucalyptus and mint suited him well and Percy had always seemed to like it well enough. When he was certain that he was clean and smooth and smelt nice enough, he dried himself carefully. It wouldn’t do well to let his hair frizz as it was wont to do from hasty drying. After careful consideration, he combed his hair exactly as he always did. He considered French braiding it, just for the smile he was sure it would bring to Percy’s face, but after remembering the fact that all of his students would also be seeing him tonight, he decided against it. The children did not need to know that he knew how to be soft in any way.

In light of the fact that the Ball was a special occasion, both to the school and to him personally, he had ordered new dress robes from Madame Malkins’. Upon pulling them from their packaging, though, he found that they looked remarkably similar to what he always wore: black fabric, high collar, a plethora of buttons down the front. The fabric was of obviously higher quality, the buttons were a shiny silver rather than his usual matte black. He supposed it would have to do. He wasn’t even entirely sure when so many buttons had become a part of his aesthetic; surely there was a more practical solution.

At long last, he got them all buttoned though and found that he did, indeed, look quite nicer than usual. The satiny fabric hugged his lean body in a way that his daily teaching robes did not do (nor would he want them to). The shining buttons offset the look nicely, so that he looked less like a Death Eater and more like a man on his way to meet his love interest. A novel idea, he thought. Before Percy, he had never really imagined himself in the center of a love story before. 

But before that could happen, they had a plot of some sort to foil. He still was unsure what Barty Jr was hoping to accomplish by impersonating a school teacher and he couldn’t put together exactly what Harry Potter had to do with it all, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was something nefarious. 

He arrived at the Great Hall a good bit before any of the students had arrived. The room was nearly unrecognizable, covered as it was in pale blue decorations and Christmas trees with charmed icicles hanging from their branches. The staff and a number of adults who had already arrived were mingling around as the band set up behind them. Severus noted that Percy and his date were still absent and that Moody hadn’t arrived yet either. Igor gave him a knowing look from across the room, but didn’t approach him for which he was grateful. He crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping for good luck with everything, and moved forward to mingle with the rest of them.

As more people got there and the room began to fill up, Severus began to feel more at ease.

“You’re looking well, Severus,” Minerva told him on her way out the door to meet her young Tri-Wizard Champion. 

“As are you,” he said politely. He had always liked and respected Minerva. She was one of the only people who had never, even when he was a child, treated him any differently than she treated anyone else.

Just then, Severus felt his heart skip a beat. Percy had arrived in all of his glory, arm in arm with a cute girl with a pink pixie cut. They paused in the doorway and looked around for a moment, awed at the elaborately decorated hall, then Percy spotted him. He could tell that Percy spotted him because his whole face lit up brighter than the dazzling decorations around them. Severus had never imagined that someone would look like that because of him and it made him feel dizzy, almost drunk. 

“Hello, Severus,” Percy said warmly. “Have you met Auror Tonks?” 

Severus gave him a small secret smile. He had been a bit skeptical when he’d seen the small girl on his arm, but he did, in fact, know Tonks. He had taught her several years ago and knew that, in spite of her size, she could be incredibly scrappy. “We have met,” he said, “but it is nice to see you again.”

She gave a loud jolly laugh, her white teeth flashing in the soft light of the room. “Wotcher!” she exclaimed. “You were right, Perce. He is different around you.” To him, she said, “I never knew you could be nice, Professor Snape. I’m glad to see someone can bring it out in you.”

He gave Percy a questioning look. He hadn’t been aware that they were sharing their status with anyone just yet. 

“I had to tell her everything before she’d agree,” Percy said apologetically. “And she seems to intuitively know when someone is holding back from her.”

“Hey!” she smacked him playfully on the arm. “If we’re going to be each other’s beards for the night, I have a right to know who I’m covering for.” She gave Severus a knowing look. “I think you two are perfect for each other,” she said before wandering away to the band’s stage.

“I know she seems a bit scatter-brained,” Percy said when they were alone. “But she’s really perfect for this operation. She studied under Moody, so she’s got extra motivation to want to find out what’s going on. She’s incredibly competent, plus she blends in perfectly here. And she’s young enough that none of your old associates will suspect a thing.” 

Discreetly, Severus reached out and squeezed his hand. “I trust you, Percy,” he murmured. “I don’t trust many people, but I find that I do trust you. Soon this will all be over.”

Soon after, the Ball officially started. The champions opened the dance floor, all looking respectable and elegant except for Potter. Severus winced in sympathy for his poor date’s feet. Barty Crouch Sr. sat next to Percy, looking calm but rather worse for the wear. The sooner this was resolved, the better he was sure things would be for that poor man. The food was adequate, but Severus’ mind was all over the place. He kept looking for Percy, looking for Moody, looking for Igor, looking for Percy again. There was nothing he could do for the plan at this stage, but he struggled to hold himself together enough for it to happen. Trusting Percy was difficult enough. Trusting that Igor could pull off his part without even knowing the true reason for it, trusting that his suspicions were correct about Moody, trusting that Moody’s creepy eye wouldn’t catch them at their plans, and trusting a small pink-haired Auror to hold it all together was damn near impossible. 

Finally, Igor caught his eye and slipped out of the room. He waited a reasonable amount of time before following him, being sure to catch Percy’s eye before he went. This must be how muggles felt when they were trying to pull off a bank heist, he thought as adrenaline and anxiety pumped through his veins. 

As he walked through the halls wondering where Karkaroff had gotten to, a strong hand grabbed him, pulling him into a dim corridor and waving the flask in his face. “I got it, but I think he knows it was me!” Igor hissed. “That eye made it nearly impossible! This better be worth it,” he said, his eyes hungrily tracing Severus’ frame.

“I assure you, it will be,” Severus whispered. “Just keep it hidden! We don’t want anyone catching us with it now. We can’t do anything with it until the students are back in their dorms.” He tried to convey an appropriate level of aloofness and annoyance with Karkaroff, but inside he was dancing. Phase one was complete! Now he only had to trust Percy and Tonks to keep Moody in the room for another hour at most.

Karkaroff seemed appropriately subdued and tucked the flask back in the pocket of his robes, so he supposed his acting had been acceptable. “Very well,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Shall we take a walk, then? I don’t want to be anywhere near him right now. He already hates us. He’s just looking for a reason to arrest us,” he complained.

“Would you shut up,” Severus snapped. The last thing he needed was for Igor’s gigantic mouth to ruin things at this stage. 

They meandered through the hallways, killing time and sending a handful of errant students back to the Great Hall. At some point Karkaroff’s meaty hand found its way to the small of Severus’ back and he tried not to cringe away from it. _Just a bit longer, just a bit longer_ he chanted in his head as he walked. At least Igor’s specialty had been picking pockets and not legilimency, he thought. 

Suddenly, a commotion sounded from the Great Hall, stopping them both in their tracks. “Give me the flask!” Snape hissed. “Go see what’s going on!”

“Why me?” Karkaroff demanded.

“Because if I’m seen in there, Dumbledore will insist that I stay and assist with whatever problem those idiot students have caused now,” he snapped back.

Again Karkaroff looked subdued. He turned and jogged off for the Great Hall, looking like a dog reluctantly searching for its master. He slipped the flask into his pocket and fingered the smaller bottle that then rested next to it. 

Moments later, a glowing smokey-looking phoenix winged its way towards him. "Severus," it spoke in the Headmaster's voice. "We have need of you in my office."

Feeling more gleeful than he could ever remember feeling, Severus practically skipped up the stairs to the Headmaster's office, pausing only to ensure that no students were observing him. When he reached the gargoyles, he murmured the, frankly ridiculous, password, Dairy Milk (what was milk if not dairy?) and entered the room on the moving staircase.

Upon opening the door, Severus was greeted with the exact sight he had most hoped to see. A subdued Barty Crouch Jr sat, his hands cuffed behind his back, in front of a proud-looking Auror Tonks. Barty's father, clearly in shock, sat in the corner of the room while Dumbledore, behind his desk, was sucking on some kind of muggle candy and looking pleased in spite of, or perhaps because of, the oddity of the situation. 

But the one who really captured Severus' eyes, the one who had already captured his cold heart months ago, was Percy. His burgundy dress robes were impeccable but his glasses sat slightly crooked on his nose. He looked absolutely perfect. Before he could reach out for him, Dumbledore spoke. 

"Severus, do you happen to have any Veritaserum?" he asked calmly. "We seem to have a bit of a situation here that the Aurors need to resolve."

Severus rolled his eyes. Leave it to Albus to react like a doddering old man in the face of such drama. "Of course," Severus replied, pulling both the flask and the vial from his pocket and laying them gingerly on the table.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "I see," he said. "It seems that you were in on the big reveal, then?" He spoke it as one would ask a question, but Severus knew that he didn't really expect an answer. He often wondered just how much the old man knew and how much he was expecting others to step up and pretend to reveal to him. Severus only reached out and gripped Percy's hand. 

With a brisk nod and a small smile, Dumbledore nodded. "Auror Tonks, if you would call for backup? Someone you trust deeply, if you please," he said. "Severus, Mr. Weasley, I think we have all that we need from you. I think the castle will manage without you for the rest of the weekend, my boy." He directed the last part to Severus and, with that, dismissed them both. 

If he had felt any less elated, Severus would probably have been embarrassed, but as it was, he could only squeeze Percy's hand and tug him out of the room. It felt good to let someone else deal with things for once in his miserable life. 

Their trip through the castle felt like a dream. The intention had been to run to Hogsmeade as fast as possible, to get home. But Percy stopped him when they reached the castle courtyard, still decorated with fairy lights for the Ball, still occupied by a few couples that promptly ran away when they saw their evil potions professor standing there. 

"Severus," Percy said, pulling him close. Severus looked up at him, for once not feeling annoyed that someone was taller than him. Percy's eyes glowed with joy and warmth. He felt as if he was coming home. "We went to a Ball together and I didn't even get to dance with you," he said, a crooked grin on his lovely face. "May I have this dance?"

"I would like nothing more," Severus said softly, wrapping his arms around Percy, letting himself be wrapped in Percy's arms. 

There, under the starlight, in the courtyard of a snow-covered castle, they swayed back and forth to an imaginary beat. He hadn't stuck around for long to hear the band, but Severus knew without a doubt that the Weird Sisters couldn't hold a candle to this moment of pure perfection, of pure magic. 

It could have been minutes or it could have been hours. Severus found that he really didn't care. Perhaps, he thought, that time stood still in the most perfect of moments, and he found himself forgiving it for moving so erratically at other times. Suffering through the worst moments of life were all worth it if they led to this, if they always brought him home in the end. Eventually, he and Percy's eyes met, black and blue, and they laughed for the joy and craziness of it all. 

They laughed and then they ran, down the path to Hogsmeade, Apparating as soon as they'd left the castle grounds. When they landed in Spinner's End, Severus found that he wasn't sure which of them had done the magic and which had been the Side-Along and he found that he really didn't even care. The only thing that mattered was that they landed in his living room – in their living room – tangled together and laughing still because they'd actually done it. 

Through all of the irritation and trouble, all of the drama and mystery, they'd made it here, to a place where they could curl up together as their owls had been doing for months. He made a mental note to never again call his students bird-brains. They clearly did not deserve the honour. 

Without a word, they stumbled up the stairs, kissing one another every few steps. By the time they reached his bedroom, fancy robes had been discarded (how had Percy gotten through all of those buttons?), fingers tangled in hair, their cheeks were flushed and their hearts were full. And then Severus stepped back.

The thing was... The real problem was... Well, perhaps it was not actually a problem, but it was a thing at any rate. The thing was, Severus was standing there and his ribs stuck out too much and his feet were too large for his diminutive height and he was acutely aware of his nose. How was it even possible, he wondered, to be as aware of one's nose as he was at that moment?

He shifted awkwardly. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. He couldn't because Percy was standing in front of him, so brave and so perfect. His face was open and his eyes were bright. His pale skin, all dusted with golden freckles, was bare, bare, bare and his hair stood out in the dim room like a tangerine in a basket of plums. 

"Severus," he said gently, his freckled hands on Severus' waist, "we don't need to do anything you don't want to do. 

And Severus knew that. He knew it because he trusted Percy. He trusted Percy enough to place his cold heart in Percy's punctual hands; he trusted him in a way that he probably shouldn't but he couldn't even help himself. He trusted Percy more than he trusted his own voice at that moment. He knew that they didn't have to do anything, but Severus wanted it more than he'd ever wanted before. 

Covering Percy's soft hands with his own, running potion-stained fingers up lean, perfect arms, he shivered with anxiety though the room was comfortably warm. Swallowing hard, he looked up at Percy, at his concerned, gentle face, his glasses perched on his nose. "I want to," Severus said quietly, "more than anything in this world."

An arm pulled him closer, fingers gently played against his spine. "Then kiss me, Severus," he whispered. And Severus did. 

They moved together softly, their bodies fit perfectly, like a puzzle that they'd solved together. And the elated feeling that one gets when the last piece is in place and the picture comes together never went away. 

Percy's body was warm against his, tangible, lovely. He tasted like honey and he felt like fire, warm and sweet. And when Percy entered him, he felt like nothing had ever felt before. It was less a feeling of scratching an itch, of achieving a goal then moving on, and more of a feeling of fulfillment, of breathing deep and knowing that another deep breath would be just as rich. On and on, ad infinitum. 

They lay together afterward, flushed and sweaty, their limbs tangled up, neither fully knowing where one of them ended and the other began.

"What do you think Karkaroff is doing right now?" Percy asked.

Severus snorted. "Is that really the conversation you want to be having right now?" he asked. Percy only chuckled and, after a beat, Severus joined him. "He's probably still waiting for me to bring him some ecstasy-inducing potion," he said.

He rolled closer then, though Severus wasn't sure how that was even possible, laying his rich red head against Severus' chest. His nimble fingers slid over Severus' chest hair, then circled a nipple, before coming to rest conspicuously over his left arm.

"So we stopped them," he said, hopeful but uncertain. 

"Yes," Severus replied quietly. "For now."

"That's what I was afraid of," Percy sighed. "They'll try again, won't they?" 

"Yes," Severus repeated. "But we'll win." He kissed the top of Percy's head and held him close. "We will always win because we are right."

And for the first time in his life, he really knew that to be true.

**Author's Note:**

> The art in this story is here: https://snapeislife.tumblr.com/post/642514293158461440/drawn-for-the-snapebang-2020-this-is-for
> 
> Please give it all of your love because it's the best!


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